Chapter 5: The Breaking Point

Penelope Garcia's office was quiet, save for the soft clicking of the keys as her fingers moved across the keyboard. The glow of her computer screen bathed her face in an eerie light, and despite the late hour, she was working—stubbornly, relentlessly. She had to. There was always more to do, more cases to crack, more lives to save. Her body had been protesting for weeks, but Penelope refused to listen. She couldn't afford to. Not with everything on the line.

Her stomach churned, the nausea a constant companion as she forced herself to focus on the new case in front of her. A teacher had gone missing in San Francisco, and it seemed like there was a pattern, maybe another link to the previous string of abductions they had uncovered. Penelope's mind raced through the details, her brain moving a mile a minute, but her body wasn't cooperating. She was lightheaded. Her vision blurred. It wasn't the first time in recent weeks that her health had begun to falter, but she could ignore it—at least until now.

A cough broke through her concentration.

Penelope didn't react at first. It wasn't the first time she'd coughed today, and she had been battling a lingering cough for weeks now. It had become just another background noise in the chaos of her life. But then the cough came again—harsh, guttural, and deep from her chest—and she felt something warm and wet trickle down the back of her throat. She paused, staring at her screen, the words now blurry and indistinguishable. The air felt heavy, thick.

She coughed again. This time, she felt a small splatter of blood land on her lip.

Her stomach twisted violently, a panic rising within her, but she fought it back. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, glancing down at it. Her eyes widened in horror at the red stains now dotting her hand.

Blood.

Penelope swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath. Her heart was racing, her thoughts swirling. The ache in her body seemed to have intensified in that moment, as if her entire world had shifted out of alignment. She could feel her vision blurring again, but she refused to acknowledge it. She wouldn't—couldn't—let herself fall apart. Not now. Not when there was still so much to do.

She turned her attention back to the case, willing herself to focus. But before she could even begin to type again, another cough wracked her body. She didn't even have time to catch her breath before the blood came—more of it, staining her lips, splattering onto her keyboard.

That was when the office door swung open.

"Penelope?"

The voice was soft but urgent. She blinked, the dizziness overwhelming her, and tried to sit up straighter. But the room tilted, and her head felt like it was spinning. She could hear footsteps approaching, but they seemed so far away.

"Penelope, are you—" The voice stopped suddenly. There was a pause, a moment of stillness, and then she felt someone kneel beside her. It was Reid.

"Penelope?" His voice was frantic now, his hands gently cupping her face, forcing her to look at him. "What's going on? Are you—"

"I'm fine, Reid," Penelope said, her voice hoarse, but even to her own ears, it sounded like a lie.

"No, you're not," Reid said, his voice tight with concern. He quickly pulled her into his arms, carefully supporting her as he helped her stand. "Come on, we're going to the hospital."

"Reid, I—" Penelope tried to protest, but her words caught in her throat as another wave of dizziness hit her, followed by another violent cough. She felt the warmth of blood filling her mouth again, but before she could even spit it out, she felt herself being lifted, her body swaying dangerously.

"Penelope, don't talk," Reid said, his voice soft but firm as he guided her out of her office. "You're not fine. I'm not letting you do this alone."

At the hospital, it felt like time was moving too quickly and too slowly all at once. The sterile white walls, the sharp beeping of machines, the hurried footsteps of doctors and nurses—Penelope felt like she was floating through it all, disconnected from her own body.

She had barely noticed when they arrived, when Reid had carried her into the emergency room. She had barely noticed the frantic doctors surrounding her, the quiet panic in Reid's eyes. But now, she was hyper-aware of everything, her body suddenly more sensitive to each touch, each movement. Her chest ached with every breath she took, and the tightness in her throat made it difficult to swallow.

A nurse checked her vitals while another took blood samples, asking questions that she couldn't quite process. Her mind felt foggy, like she was underwater.

"Penelope," Reid's voice cut through the haze. He was sitting beside her now, his hand resting gently on hers. "I'm here. You're going to be okay."

She turned her head toward him, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Reid… I'm scared. What's happening? Why is it… why is it so hard to breathe?"

Reid didn't answer immediately. Instead, he squeezed her hand, trying to offer some comfort even though he knew there was very little he could do. "You're going to be okay, Penelope. We're going to figure this out. Just hang in there."

Penelope closed her eyes, her body betraying her with every breath, every cough. She felt a lump form in her throat, the fear she had been hiding for so long finally breaking through. She couldn't protect the baby this way. What if she didn't make it? What if her body couldn't hold up long enough to see her baby safely into the world?

And then there was the other fear—the one she couldn't voice. What if it was the cancer? What if it had already spread too far, too quickly? What if she had ignored the signs for too long?

"Dr. Garcia?" A voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts. She looked up, blinking through the haze of her own fear, to see a doctor standing at the foot of her bed. She didn't recognize him, but his name tag read "Dr. Alvarez." He looked serious, his brow furrowed with concern.

"We need to get some imaging done," he said, his voice low but calm. "We suspect a possible bleeding in the lungs or a clot. We'll get you stabilized, but we need to make sure we know what's going on."

Penelope nodded slowly, her body feeling heavy, the dizziness intensifying with each passing moment. She wanted to argue, to say she could handle it, that she could go back to work, but the words wouldn't come. She had no choice but to listen.

Dr. Alvarez turned to the nurse beside him. "Get the imaging set up. Stat."

Reid's voice was softer now, more hesitant. "Penelope… you need to let them do their job. You need help."

"I don't want to be a burden," she whispered, barely able to hear herself over the rush of blood in her ears. "I'm just... scared. I'm scared for the baby."

Reid's gaze softened, and he leaned closer, his hand brushing her cheek. "Penelope, you're not a burden. You never were. And you don't have to be afraid. You're not alone in this."

Hours passed. Penelope felt like she was drifting in and out of consciousness, her body succumbing to the exhaustion that had been building for weeks. She could feel the steady rhythm of Reid's presence beside her, the constant reassurance that he was there, but the fear still lingered. What if it was too late?

Finally, the doctor returned, and his expression told Penelope everything she needed to know.

"The imaging shows some complications," Dr. Alvarez began, his voice steady but not without concern. "We suspect some bleeding around the lung, possibly due to the chemotherapy treatments. We'll need to monitor it closely. As for the baby, it's too soon to say what this will mean, but we'll need to keep you under observation for now."

Penelope felt a lump form in her throat again, and she squeezed Reid's hand tighter. "I need to know what's going to happen to the baby," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please. I need to know."

Reid spoke before the doctor could respond, his voice low and filled with resolve. "We'll get through this, Penelope. We'll do whatever it takes to keep you and the baby safe. You're not doing this alone."

But Penelope couldn't stop the fear from rising, couldn't stop the tears from threatening to spill. She had never felt so vulnerable, so helpless in all her life. She had always been the one to protect others, to take care of them—but now, she needed someone to take care of her.

And as she lay there, surrounded by machines, with Reid's hand clutching hers, she realized just how much she needed him. Just how much she needed all of them.